


Demon Seed

by Sigrid_Storrada



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Bloodplay, Community: skyrimkinkmeme, Consensual, Daedra, Dirty Talk, Dremora - Freeform, F/M, Femdom, Fluff, Het, Impregnation, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn with minimal Plot, Pregnancy, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Skyrim Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigrid_Storrada/pseuds/Sigrid_Storrada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ragnhilda, a desperate, horny Nord Dragonborn, summons a Dremora to help ease some tension. But their encounter leaves her with more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless smut, originally a fill to a prompt on the Skyrim kink meme. Enjoy! <3

How long had it been since she’d been with a man, Ragnhilda wondered. Months, maybe? Or had it been over a year?

She’d been so busy for so long, it was hard to say for certain. But she had been so sensitive of late – everything little thing seemed to arouse her. A hot bath; a warm bed; the smell of a stranger. And no matter how often she touched herself, nothing felt good enough anymore to really satiate her.

She wanted sex – real sex, and with someone who knew what they were doing.

Her pussy twitched at the thought. A big man – that’s how she liked them. A strapping man with broad shoulders, strong hands, and a heavy cock that she could throw down onto her bed and ride as long and as hard as she pleased.

She didn’t need romance – by Shor, she wasn’t interested – and yet of all the men she had come to know over the years since she had returned to Skyrim, she could think of none whom she liked or trusted enough to simply ask for a fuck.

 

She pinched a swollen nipple between her fingers and sighed, her head tilting backwards and her eyes pressing shut as the arousal ached and stirred in her groin.

Already she could feel the wetness between her thighs when she moved her legs together – sticky and warm as they coated her skin and soaked through her undergarments. But she didn’t touch herself yet. As long as she had the time – alone in Whiterun, in her bed made for two – she might as well take the time to tease and pleasure herself properly.

 

She was naked now, except for her undergarments, but she kept it that way. She would tease herself like that sometimes – it stopped some of her incessant leaking from sullying the bed too much, and it frustrated her that her pussy was not completely exposed – and being frustrated like that only made her wetter and got her more worked up.

She grabbed her own thighs with both hands and kneaded them – high, up by her soaking, sensitive cunt. The urge to touch herself – to give in to temptation, to feed herself some of the pleasure that her aching pussy was so badly demanding – was overwhelming.  
But instead, she took the edges of her undergarments between her fingers and pulled them up a little, writhing her hips around so that the sodden fabric would stroke her needy little bud for her.

And then that feeling surged – suddenly; overpoweringly – like a charging horse. She froze, halting her ministrations until the peak of the wave passed; subsiding for now, but not retreating.

She breathed out. She had narrowly avoided an orgasm.

Gods, she was a mess. It would take far too much patience to edge herself any further, and, honestly, she doubted right now whether she would be able to last much longer regardless.

A change of plans then, she thought.

 

She grabbed the pillow from under her head – soft and yet firm – and sat up on the bed, laying it down onto its side on the mattress before straddling it, a bare knee on either side.

Slowly, she pressed her swollen, soaking pussy – still covered by her sopping undergarments – down upon the fabric as she began to rub herself languidly against it.

Oh – that felt good. She felt an orgasm budding already, deep in the muscles of her abdomen and behind the tender, agitated nerves of her pussy, and she grinded herself against the pillow, humping it slowly but firmly; panting for breath and whispering filthy imaginings to herself in the safety of her solitude.

She threw her head back as she rode the pillow, bunched up and damp now between her legs, and in that moment, something in the far end of her bedroom caught her eye.

An old trophy hung loosely upon the wall, glinting with menace but hardly used – by her at least. An ancient gift from a charming, if troublesome, Daedric Prince.

The Sanguine Rose.

No – but it wouldn’t even work like that, would it?

And yet, just the thought of using it that way – of abusing its power – sent such a dirty flush of heat through her chest and aching pussy. And not only a flush of horniness, for she was already hot and sweating and close to making herself come. No, when she thought about it now it made her feel… excited, eager, and strangely amused.

It was a bold idea, certainly. But then again, she’d handled worse.

She smiled wickedly to herself.

And just like that, she’d made up her mind.

 

She rose from the bed now, her cunt still so agonisingly sensitive to touch she had to be careful not to brush up against the pillow as she climbed from it.

She stepped toward the wall at the far end of the room to the place where she had offhandedly hooked it up on display so many months ago, only to promptly forget about it as her regular travels resumed.

Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest as she reached out and took the long, jagged staff in her hands. For all the blood of dragons that supposedly flowed through her veins, she was no witch; her strong hands felt more at home clasped around the hilt of a sword or an axe than they did this strange, weightless piece of wood.

 

She caught sight of herself in a small mirror that hung upon the wall not far from where the staff was once fastened, and she checked herself quickly, running a brisk hand through her tangled hair.

Perhaps it was silly, in a way, but she wanted to at least look decent for him - or it; or whatever it was that was about crawl out from Oblivion through the staff.

She looked flushed – her skin was milky white, as ever, with soft brown freckles covering her face, shoulders, and the tops of her plump breasts, but her cheeks were ruddy and hot to the touch. Her red hair was a long, knotted mess atop her head, but she smirked at her own reflection – she didn’t look half bad.

 

She strode back to the bed now, the tall, ominous staff in hand, where she wiggled and stepped free from her soggy undergarments. She then pulled the pale bedsheet from the bed and draped it around her body, making sure to cover herself skimpily and suggestively, as she perched herself on the edge of the mattress.

Finally, as a sudden afterthought, she leant over and fetched a dagger from her bedside table, slipping it underneath a pillow behind her, just in case the worst should come to pass. And then she took a deep breath.

Her heart recommenced its fast, nervous thudding, and the warmth flooded again to her face, but her mind had long been made up. She raised the staff up now, and brought it down with resolve and determination.

 

Ominous purple flames balled at the tip of the staff with her intention, and by the time she had brought it down again a towering, dark form was already taking shape, caressed and encircled by violet, fluid-like flares.

And then – as abruptly as they had appeared – the blaze went out, and he was there.

And he was striking.

 

He stood still, imposingly in her bedroom, his dark, armoured figure lit up only by the flickering candles that rested upon many surfaces around the room.

He was tall – taller than a Nordic man, or even a High-Elf – with dark grey skin; a heavy brow; a straight, thick nose; and thin, chiselled lips, black against his pointed, white teeth.

Like all Dremora she’d ever seen, his cheekbones were high and sharp, but unlike others this one seemed somewhat more, weathered.  
His face was deeply lined in the corners of his eyes, and old scars cut into one side of his face in particular, with a rather large one running across the thick bridge of his nose.

She had long been inclined towards hard-looking men, and this Dremora was no exception. She hadn’t expected to find him handsome – albeit in his unfamiliar, monstrous way – but it was certainly a welcome surprise.

His horns, too, were something remarkable. Huge, curled and ram-like – only much bigger – they erupted forth from the front of his skull near his hair-line, and wound backwards.

He certainly looked strong, but his body was covered from neck to toe in thick, highly-wrought Daedric armour.  
Well, she smirked, she would have to get that off, for a start.

 

He scrutinised the room, and her, guardedly, for a long time, his eyes glowing and wraithlike.

He seemed, confused. He could see no threat here; no need for one of his own to be called into the service of this woman.

He eyed her warily. 

She bit her lip.

‘You, there,’ she began, a little unsure. ‘You can understand me, can’t you?’

He stared her coldly for a long moment, but, finally, he nodded.

‘Good,’ she smiled a little. ‘Tell me – you were summoned from Oblivion through this staff, yes? And you are bound to me; to serve me?’

He didn’t like where this was going, but he nodded again. She smirked.

‘I see. And, as my servant, I can give you commands and you must carry them out. Am I correct?’ she went on.

He nodded stiffly, and a wicked grin began to creep over her lips.

‘All right, then,’ she purred, allowing herself to feel a little excited now. ‘Take your armour off.’

He frowned.

For the longest moment he remained there, unmoving, until finally, not taking his irritated eyes from hers for a second, he began to unclasp his armour, piece by agonising piece.

First his gauntlets fell to the floor, then his many chest-pieces. Lastly came his greaves and his boots, until he stood there before her in only his undergarments. She smirked.

‘Oh, don’t stop there! I was just beginning to enjoy the show,’ she teased. He frowned.

He tried to speak now – his voice was deep and rough, his accent strong and strange to her.

‘You ordered me to take off my armour. I obeyed,’ he answered slowly. She chuckled.

‘I didn’t realise you would be so pedantic,’ she smiled. ‘I want you naked. And that’s an order.’

 

She saw his jaw clench together as his hands slipped down and unlaced his undergarments – he didn’t seem to be enjoying this little game as much as she was. She smirked to herself – obviously, she would have to help him with that.

He stepped from his smallclothes, leaving them piled on the floor by his armour as he stood before her, naked in all his glory.

He was beautiful indeed.

Tall, broad across, and solid with well-developed muscle, his body was stunning. His arms were long but bulky with dense muscle, his chest was wide and strong, his abs were well-defined, his thighs burly and powerful, and his penis flaccid – but, oh, so full of delicious potential.

And all over his grey skin ran these deep, dark red lines like veins, or rivers on a map. She bit her lip; oh how she would love to trace over all of them with her teeth and tongue.

‘And what do I call you?’ she asked after taking him in with her eyes for long moment.

‘Dremora. Valkynaz,’ he answered simply. She frowned.

‘Yes, but what’s your name? What do you call yourself?’ she pressed.

He hesitated for a moment. He seemed unused to speaking in the common tongue, pausing to think about the words before he uttered them.

‘We are nameless,’ he attempted finally. ‘Only the highest of us are honoured with a name only for themselves,’ he explained.

‘So, what do other Dremora call you? How do they tell you apart from the others?’ 

‘We are the same. I am Dremora. Valkynaz,’ he answered. She smiled a little.

‘All right then, Dremora Valkynaz,’ she teased. ‘How about I call you Valki, just between you and I? If you were a Nord folk might call you that.’

‘Whatever you call me is your business,’ he replied indifferently.

He seemed neither pleased nor offended by this appellation, and she decided that was good enough.

 

She patted the bed beside her, before standing up and taking a few steps forward.

‘Come; sit,’ she insisted, gesturing again towards the bed.

He hesitated again for a moment before walking toward her, taking a cautious seat down on the edge of the bed where she had told him to.

She smiled impishly, turning to face him now, and she let her bedsheet slide to the floor.

 

He said nothing, but he eyed her uncertainly, gazing over her naked form for as long as she would allow. 

She grinned and took her large breasts in her hands, rubbing and kneading them before him.

‘You like it?’ she teased, swaying her thick hips from side to side in front of his face.

She could feel her pussy begin to ache and throb once again, yearning for attention between her legs. Baring herself to him like this was making her wet.

He grunted a little, and cast his gaze from her. Again, she smiled.

‘You don’t have to be shy,’ she hummed softly. ‘I want you to like me.’

‘You’re… human,’ he protested without conviction. She grinned.

‘Doesn’t that just make it more exciting?’

And then she dropped to her knees before him, nudging his legs apart as she knelt between them on the wooden floorboards. Already, when she looked up, she could see that his cock had begun to harden a little, and the very idea that he had enjoyed her brief little show – if only a little – made her cunt twitch and tighten with desire.

 

Without further ado she leant forwards to take his cock into her mouth and began to suck him off with abandon. He let out a startled gasp as her lips first enveloped his semi-hard length, but he made no move to stop her.

The taste of his cock on her tongue sent jolts of wild arousal to her pussy. She felt so desperately horny as she knelt there and pleased him that she was almost grateful for the long pause she’d had in her own stimulation.

She bobbed up and down on him fervently, and though she knew her eagerness was perhaps coming at the cost of some technique, she just couldn’t help herself.

Within only the first few strokes of her warm, dripping mouth over the smooth, taut skin of his shaft, he lost all of his limpness.

Indeed, she felt him get harder and harder with her every nod of her head, until she could no longer fit his entire length in her mouth without taking some down her throat as well, which she couldn’t keep up for long stretches at a time.

His penis itself was almost as stunning as he was. Long, thick, and heavy, an ornate web of deep red veins bulged out through the thin, grey skin and coiled over his entire shaft. And the head of his penis – soft and mushroom-shaped, and ever-so-slightly tapered at the end – was the most tantalising shade of scarlet.

And already, from the little slit at the very tip of his cock, he oozed and spurted clear, warm liquid into her mouth like a leaky faucet, and she couldn’t lap it up fast enough.

He tasted like any man, but to her that was such a wild and wonderful change from being alone, she thought he tasted particularly delectable.

She raised her right hand, gripping around the base of his cock with her fist as she pumped her hand up and down in time with her mouth, helping her cover that bit of extra length he’d acquired since they’d begun.

His cock was drenched in her warm saliva now. It dripped down abundantly from her lips and tongue as she dipped and sucked on his swollen length, and she spread the liquid around even more so with her hand as she stroked him, letting it seep down freely, wetting his heavy, tightening balls and thighs.

Little by little, she could feel as his whole demeanour shifted – from reserved, at first, to uncertain; from uncertain to aroused.  
Before long, little sighs and groans had begun to escape from his lips, which soon became breathy moans and throaty growls. And now he was tilting his own head back and bucking into her mouth – lightly at first; raising his own hips to get the most depth from her every stroke through her uneven, uninhibited rhythm.

She was almost startled as a large, calloused hand came down and twisted into her loose, tangled hair, rocking her head down onto him ever so gently. She’d almost laughed, if she hadn’t had her wet, dripping mouth stuffed with his veiny, pistoning cock.

 

Abruptly, he grabbed her head with both hands and held it tightly – slowing her strokes as best he could. 

His cock slid from her mouth and she looked up at his face questioningly. He seemed… sheepish?

She understood what he meant well enough, but the signal itself caught her completely off-guard – it was so human of him.  
She didn’t expect that kind of consideration from a Dremora. But then again, maybe he just didn’t want to come yet. Not to mention that while he was in Tamriel he was technically bound to her. Perhaps he didn’t want to anger her, at least while he was at her mercy.

She smirked, wiping her soaking mouth sloppily on the back of her forearm, but she kept a hand around his cock.

‘Don’t wanna come yet?’ she teased, rubbing and toying with his shaft delicately as she gazed up at him. ‘And here I was thinking you weren’t interested…’ 

He groaned as he watched her on her knees, her pale fingers wrapped around his hard length as it continued to erratically squirt sticky ropes of fluid. She saw this latest eruption and leant in with her pink tongue out, licking up the string of liquid from the base of his cock to the tip.

He growled brutishly.

‘I want to come inside you,’ he snarled suddenly. ‘I want to stretch your wet, wanton little cunt around my cock, and I want to flood your womb with my seed until it gushes from you.’

‘Oh, gods,’ she breathed, her spare fingers coming up to pinch and tweak a nipple, as her other hand increased the pace around his length. He inhaled sharply.

She had not expected that. Not at all. She had done her best not to touch herself for a while now, but between sucking him off and hearing him suddenly talk like that – and that deep, rumbling voice – she felt so frantically horny that she couldn’t take it anymore.

Her hand left her nipple and slipped in between the sticky, slippery folds of her pussy – she was absolutely saturated between her legs. She moaned brazenly as she touched herself, her strokes on his cock slowing right down and becoming jagged.

He smiled smugly as he watched her.

‘You like that?’ he asked. She nodded ardently from between his legs, her eyes half-lidded as she fingered herself.

He chuckled – a low, growling laugh – for the first time she had ever heard, and it did nothing to alleviate her exasperating arousal.

‘You are a shameless woman, aren’t you?’ he said, his strange accent rolling thickly off his tongue at his every word. ‘So filthy wet for a kyn you’ve never known.’ He groaned. ‘That makes me hard, little mortal.’

She peered hungrily at him then, slowing the rubbing her fingers were doing back and forth over her soaking slit, and she smirked.

‘Uh-huh. Well, I think you’re all talk,’ she purred. ‘How ‘bout you show me I’m wrong?’

He sneered, nudging her a little with his leg to get her to move. It seemed her words got his hackles up, and she liked it.

She stood up now and he did too, and though she was by no means a small woman, he towered over her. He gave her little time to appreciate their size difference, however, before he grabbed her firmly by the shoulders, turning her around and pushing her back onto the bed behind them.

She laughed a little as she landed with her back to the mattress; startled but definitely happy about his sudden readiness.

He stared down at her and she spread her legs open wide and lewdly for him, biting her lip.

‘Well?’ she taunted, snaking a hand down her body and pulling apart her soft pink folds for him to better see, thumbing her clit a little as she did so.

He smiled.

 

He climbed onto the bed now, crawling over her naked body slowly. And then suddenly he raised a thick-skinned hand, grasping one of her heavy breasts tightly, aggressively, while his mouth enclosed over the other.

By the gods, his mouth was hot and wet and it felt good against her cold skin. He was not gentle – he hurt her carelessly – but she liked it that way.

He bit at her nipples, tugging on one with his teeth as he pinched and twirled the other between a hard, calloused thumb and forefinger.

She moaned for him, and he smirked proudly, rewarding her noises with a cruel squeeze of her sensitive breast. She cried out.

‘You bastard,’ she breathed, but even as the words came out she was smiling. He was good – better than she’d ever hoped.

She reached down and grasped his hard cock with one of her hands as he continued to nip and lick at her breasts. She could feel his heartbeat through his straining shaft, as his penis twitched and throbbed urgently with every beat.

She guided his cock to her pussy – not to enter her, but so that she could pleasure herself on him, pushing his cock up toward his stomach so that his length rubbed along the wet, silky folds of her cunt with every upwards thrust of her hips.

He played along, leisurely rocking his hips back and forth atop her, enjoying the long, tormenting strokes of her warm, inviting pussy against his painfully stiff cock, and listening to her whimper beneath him as his penis brushed over her engorged clit.

And then the head of his cock caught against her opening, and he froze. They both moaned at this sudden, unintentional contact; his a desperate, jagged breath, and hers a begging, needy mewl.

He gazed over at her face, almost as if he were checking for permission, and their eyes met. He smirked at her.

And then he pressed forward with his hips, just enough to make the head of his cock push tormentingly against the opening of her pussy without slipping in. And she cried out loudly in a mess of pleasure, begging, and frustration.

She could feel his head massaging against her cunt – right there at the entry, so close to just sinking into her and yet every time he managed to resist – applying a little pressure, and then pulling away again.

And she couldn’t take any more.

‘Fuck me,’ she growled. ‘Take me, and hold me, and fuck me, and make me come!’ she begged frantically.

He chuckled to himself, leaning into her and biting her neck.

‘Is that an order?’ he taunted in her ear, his voice little more than a low rumble.

Ugh, gods, he was irritating and sexy, and despite herself she would have laughed too if he hadn’t thrust forward at that very moment and rammed his aching cock into her hot, silky, wanting cunt.

 

His penis forced its way into her, spreading her apart indifferently as it made room for itself between her supple, embracing walls.  
He groaned with the pleasure of the first thrust, while she gripped at pillows and whatever else she could clutch by her side and scrunched the fabric in her fists. Her eyes flitted tightly shut and she panted for breath.

He felt incredible.

He wrapped his arms around her and began to fuck her, slow and hard, without waiting for her to get used to him. And she found herself clawing desperately down the bare skin of his shoulders, moaning hoarsely and passionately as she felt him stretch her open further and further with his every thrust.

Gods, she had missed this. The way he spread and stretched her beseeching pussy; the way her muscles contracted and squeezed around his invading cock; the way her sodden, swollen clit scraped against the flesh of his abdomen, leaving a sticky trail of her fluid all over his stomach; and that delicious, heady feeling of being filled.

And then he hilted inside her – the accommodating walls of her pussy widened enough now to let the head of his cock finally slam against her cervix – and it hurt. She almost laughed.

She was far from being a virgin, but this… this was something else.

And the pain felt good.

 

She bucked her hips against him now, meeting his every thrust with one of her own, forcing him to hilt in her every time. He gasped.

‘Uh, look how wet you are for me, little mortal,’ he growled darkly. ‘You like this, don’t you? It excites you that I’m not human, doesn’t it? Our differences make you slick for me.’

‘You like it too,’ she purred in return, her eyes pressing closed every now and then as her body responded to his hard, driving rhythm. ‘It gets you off, stuffing that big Dremora cock inside my little human body, doesn’t it?’

He groaned.

‘Yes,’ he panted, and she felt the muscles of her cunt flutter around his desperate admission.

‘Is it dirty for you? To fuck a human?’ she breathed tormentingly in his ear.

‘Yes,’ he professed quietly. She sighed needily.

‘Tell me how dirty it is,’ she breathed. ‘Tell me all the filthy things you want to do to me.’

He groaned lustfully, keeping up his slow, steady pace as he held her and slipped his cock in and out of her soaking, sensitive pussy. The thought that she liked this as well was… almost too much for him.

‘I want to pump my seed into you, and I want you to feel every bit of it,’ he growled. ‘I want you to feel it seeping from between your legs and then I want to fuck you anew and fill you again.’

‘Gods,’ she whimpered, closing her eyes and gripping her hands around his shoulders. ‘More. Keep going,’ she begged.

‘How would you like to be bred by me, woman?’ he rumbled. ‘I ought to claim you; despoil you for the others. I can’t let a fertile, lustful woman like you go to waste. How would you like me to fill your empty womb with my seed, again and again, until you’re fat with my child?’ he panted. ‘Uh, look how your eyes light up, little mortal. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to breed you like a prize mare. To carry my half-kyn inside your belly, to let the proof of your licentiousness swell you up for the world to see.’

She felt an orgasm building again in the pit of her abdomen, and deep within her gushing, violated pussy. His vulgar speech and the torturously languid pace he had set were driving her wild. She knew that when she came, it was going to be intense.

‘And what makes you think you’re strong enough to sow your seeds in me?’ she tormented breathily, her voice dark and unsteady with lust. ‘What makes you so special among men, that you alone deserve my womb?’

He growled, hilting inside her hard and forcing her to take a sharp breath. She smirked.

‘Your words are barbed, mortal. You play with me, and I like it. But do you really doubt my ability?’

He grabbed her hand from his shoulder then, guiding it down, lifting himself a little so she could reach him properly. Her fingers brushed against the soft skin of his balls, and he folded her hand around them so that she was cupping them – or as much as would fit – in her palm. He bit at the top of her ear longingly.

‘Can’t you feel how full I am, little mortal?’ he breathed. She groaned beneath him, loving where his words were going, and she began to massage his testicles gently in her hand while he rumbled his lewd wishes in her ear.

‘I am a lord among my people, but we are not often allotted time to consort with the females,’ he began. ‘And I have never had any as… wayward and inviting as you,’ he smirked. ‘I am heavy with seed, little mortal. And I’m ready to spill some. Ready to breed a woman, ready to sire a lord of my own.’

She squeezed down his balls a little as she toyed with them in her hand – tightly, but not hard enough to really hurt – and he let out a shameless, pleasured moan. She smirked; it seemed she wasn’t the only one that liked it a little rough.

 

Reckless with lust now, and near to coming, he snaked an arm under her waist, buried his face into her neck, and fucked her with long and deep strokes.

‘Oh, I’m so close,’ she breathed shakily in his ear, as if he needed any more encouragement. ‘Talk to me, please, gods.’

‘I’m going to enjoy myself on you, human,’ he answered her. ‘Mounting you and fucking my seed into you. Your body’s just begging to be full with my child,’ he panted urgently as she whimpered and moaned beneath him, her hips bucking ever more fitfully now. ‘Look at those round, full teats,’ he growled into her neck, ‘Ready to swell with milk for my children, and these hips,’ he snarled, slapping her firmly across an exposed side of her thigh as he thrust into her, and she cried out. ‘Wide and ready to spread apart, take my seed, and give me strong kyn in return,’ he uttered.

‘Yes, gods, I’m coming,’ she cried, and her nails dug into the skin of his back and neck as she held onto him tightly, desperately; her pussy pulsing and clenching around his cock as the surge of sweet, gratifying relief flooded her entire body.

He kept driving into her through the waves of her orgasm, wanting to see her through this, until both her legs came up on either side of him and hooked around his back, and this unfamiliar gesture of… affection, just pushed him over the edge.

He leant into her now, trying to keep her bucking hips steady with the weight of his body, as the first stream of his semen erupted from his cock, thickly coating the still-twitching walls of her hungry pussy as he pushed himself deep within her.

‘Oh, gods,’ he heard her breathe as she nuzzled him closer. ‘I can feel it.’

He growled as she said that, his balls tightening again as he spurted stream after stream of his hot, slick seed as far into her as he could go, bursting at the entrance to her womb.

 

He thrust into her irregularly a few more times, languidly spilling more semen inside her, and later just to feel the overstimulation around his cock, before slumping down on top of her wearily, his face still nestled into the crook of her neck as he panted for breath.

She laughed, slapping his back.

‘Get off,’ she chuckled, shoving him as much as she could with her own body underneath him.

He smiled at her and rolled to the side, his softening penis slipping out of her as he moved, pulling out a long, sticky trail of their mixed fluids along with it.

She sighed contentedly.

 

Relaxed now and exhausted, they both lay there, naked on the bed, neither embracing one another nor moving away.

Warm and blissfully, thoroughly satisfied for the first times in many months, Ragnhilda felt her eyes grow heavy, and she didn’t fight it when they began to flutter closed.

He stirred beside her.

‘I should return,’ he said simply, sitting up now and turning his back to her as he gazed toward his armour, bundled in a heap on the floor in the far corner of her bedroom.

She sat up now too, propping herself up by the elbows as she watched him, wondering whether or not she should reach out and run her fingers along the skin on his back.

There were raised, red marks across his shoulders and down his spine from where she had scratched him. Some looked deeper than she had intended, and had clearly bled a little while they were having sex.

‘You know, you don’t have to go,’ she offered awkwardly after a moment as he began to dress himself again. ‘You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. We could get something to eat, maybe?’

He turned to face her and smiled, but shook his head.

‘Your kindness is… unexpected, but pleasing,’ he answered. ‘But I have already stayed here too long. Kyn will wonder.’

‘Oh. Okay,’ she nodded. ‘Well, thanks, anyway, for tonight. It was…’ she smirked, trying to find the right word. ‘It was really something.’

He smirked a little at her, too.

‘Yes. It was very enjoyable,’ he answered.

‘Mm,’ she nodded again, unsure of what else to say, but unwilling to stop the conversation.

 

Half-dressed now, in only his boots and greaves, he stepped back toward the bed and sat down again, picking up the Sanguine Rose from the floor and taking the staff in his hands, eyeing over it pensively.

Something about the fixation of the look he gave the weapon started to unnerve her. But then, before she could even think of something to say, he turned to her and smirked, offering her the staff.

‘Here,’ he spoke. ‘You must never let me have this.’

‘Oh,’ she said clumsily, taking it from his outstretched hand. ‘Yes. Of course.’

 

He rose again after that, and finished getting dressed in silence; all the while she lay, sprawled out tiredly on the bed, covered by the sheets now, though only just, watching his movements like a housecat.

Finally, he looked over at her. He was leaving.

‘Well, thanks again,’ she smiled. ‘It was a lot of fun.’

He nodded.

‘It was.’

‘Good luck with… whatever it is you Dremora do,’ she offered jokingly. He smiled.

‘Good luck with whatever it is you mortals do,’ he answered. She grinned.

‘Well, goodbye then,’ she said.

‘Goodbye.’

And then he turned to leave, his right hand summoning up a large, violet, flaring orb – the same kind the staff used to pull him into Tamriel.

 

And then suddenly he paused, his tall body stiffening up for a moment, before he turned back on himself, marching resolutely toward the bed.

He hopped back onto the bed and climbed over her body as she lay with her back against the mattress, took her head in his hands and pressed his lips down against hers firmly.

And his lips were soft though the kiss was urgent, his tongue teasing her mouth open, and soon they were kissing each other fully and ardently, her hands rising up to caress the sides his face while one of his tangled behind her head in her messy, knotted hair.

Finally, panting again, he broke the kiss and pulled away from her, rising to his feet again as he walked from the bed.

‘Call on me again,’ he smirked, and with that he stepped backwards into the purple firestorm and the flames engulfed him, dematerialising him from the room as rapidly as he had entered it.

And then she was alone, naked, wet and exhausted, in the tangled sheets of her bed.


	2. Chapter 2

She was huge now, swollen and irritated and tired. 

She shifted onto her side, clammy and uncomfortable beneath the blankets, her stomach sticking out proudly at her front. Large warm, calloused hands snaked around her waist, stroking the bare skin of her stomach tenderly.

‘You cannot sleep?’ his deep, accented voice drawled, thick with sleep. She huffed, annoyed.

‘This is all your fault,’ she muttered grumpily. He chuckled.

‘And yet it was you who summoned me,’ he purred. She scowled at him in the dark.

‘You know, I’ve read stories of your kind,’ she began petulantly. ‘Of Dremora tricking the folk that summoned them, leading them to their demise just for enjoyment’s sake.’

He reflected upon her words for a moment, an amused smirk twisting his thick, curved lips. He pressed a kiss into her naked shoulder.

‘Those stories are true,’ he smiled. ‘You think I am trying to fool you, Dragonborn?’

He didn’t usually call her that, and it was clear that, in his way, he was trying to show her some deference. And though she saw through it she still softened toward him a little.

‘Gods only know what you’ve got planned,’ she sighed. He smirked.

‘If I wanted to hurt you, mortal, I would have done it already. I don’t toy with my prey.’

She narrowed her eyes; that was quite a boast, and she never had been one to back away from a challenge.

‘You think you could hurt me, even if you wanted to?’

‘A single woman, heavy with child?’ he teased languidly. ‘I don’t think you’d present too much of a problem.’

She scowled.

‘I’ve killed more of your kind in my short years on this earth than you’d believe.’

He chuckled at this.

‘I have long loved your fire, little mortal,’ he replied. ‘I do not doubt that you have slain many Kyn. And they deserved nothing less, if they were not able to defend their own lives. I thank you for strengthening our ranks by weeding out those unfit for war. But how many of those Kyn that have fallen at the end of your blade were Valkynaz?’

She scowled at him.

‘I don’t know,’ she began flatly. ‘Let’s make it one, shall we?’

He chuckled raucously at this, chest shuddering violently from his rumbling voice. And then, in another moment, he nuzzled against her, both arms finding their way around her naked frame as he pulled her into his chest in a fond embrace.

‘And you would slay the father of your unborn child?’ he whispered into her ear, and already she felt her irritation melting away.

‘Don’t tempt me,’ she answered dryly, but her words had lost their barb, and he knew it.

He smiled to himself, nestling his face into the crook of her neck and enjoying the smell of her skin and hair, the warmth and familiar comfort of their naked bodies tangled together.

She sighed, her palm caressing the back of his hand, so small against his own, her fingers finding their way in between his as she weaved their hands together.

He was like this, she had discovered. So annoying but so… irritatingly charming. And despite herself, she liked him, and he knew it. And damn if he didn’t use this against her as often as he pleased.

‘Not long now,’ he mused, his voice a low whisper in her ear as their entwined hands traced over the large swell of her belly. She smiled a little.

‘No,’ she answered. ‘Not long at all.’

Not long until they would meet their little one; the tiny part of her her that had been growing and squirming and kicking inside her for months.

That damned Dremora was possibly more excited about it than she was. When she first told him so many months ago, it had been out of courtesy only. She was already set on raising the child alone. Valki, however, as he now called himself, had had other ideas.

 

‘You?’ he had looked down at her, wide-eyed after she had broken the news, a tall, imposing figure by the doorway in her bedroom as she perched uncomfortably on the edge of her bed. He stared down at her stomach as if he expected something to be different about her already. ‘My… child?’

She frowned.

‘Yes,’ she answered flatly.

His brow furrowed as he gazed down at her for a long moment and she let him think, the two of them separated only by a few feet of space in her little bedroom in Whiterun; that poky little room in which they had shared so many heated, sleepless nights; that room that now felt so strange and cold to her whenever he was away.

 

She wasn’t really sure how she had expected him to react. Annoyed, maybe. Surprised, perhaps – although it was no secret the two of them hadn’t exactly been as careful as they could have been. A part of her hadn’t even believed it possible, given their differences.

She was not, however, expecting him to react the way he did.

 

‘My child,’ he began smugly. ‘You, who killed the firstborn of Akatosh – you, who spared Tamriel from its foretold doom; the news of which shook through even our farthest plane of Oblivion,’ he was laughing now. ‘You will be the mother of my child?’

She scowled, irritated. Of course he would get all puffed-up with self-satisfied pride over this. She suddenly wondered why she had ever felt the need to tell him in the first place.

And then he rushed her, closing the space between her in a few short steps, large arms encircling her smaller body as they fell together onto the bed.

 

They landed gently, his arms shielding her and supporting his weight so that he didn’t crush her to death with his enthusiasm. The gesture was clearly a more playful one than a menacing one, though the line could be eerily blurred sometimes with him, but she cried out, giggling like a child.

‘Valki!’ she gasped, surprised. But he just grinned, pressing a kiss into her lips – urgent and heated, excited and kind – and all her protestations melted away, just like they always did before him.

 

Her lips pressed back against his, soft flesh on soft flesh, his tongue entreating her mouth open, plunging in and mingling hurriedly with her own. The feel of his mouth – she had become so familiar with it. Rough tongue, warm with stringy saliva that seemed a little too viscous and tasted a little too saline to be human, jagged teeth that were sharp enough to cut you if you ran your tongue along their edges.

But she loved it now, every part of it comfortable and familiar and exciting at the same time; the taste of him alone enough to make the muscles in her abdomen twitch with anticipation.

 

He broke their kiss then, smiling as he pulled back a little to look at her face. She brought a hand up, wrapping her fingers around one of the curled, bone-like horns that erupted from the side of his head through his tangle of dark hair and she tugged at it playfully, shaking his head to and fro. He grinned.

‘Ragna,’ he chuckled. ‘I… this is good news. Very good news.’

‘And here I was thinking you would be disapproving,’ she smirked.

‘Disapproving? Of this?’ he asked, earnestly puzzled. ‘Why?’

She smiled; clearly the birth of bastards was a less contentious matter entirely in the Deadlands than it was in Tamriel. She shook her head.

‘No reason,’ she answered kindly, deciding that that was something to discuss at a different time.

‘How… how long will it… grow?’ he asked clumsily, gesturing with his eyes down towards her stomach. She smiled at his awkwardness; it was so endearing.

‘We have months yet,’ she answered. ‘I should give birth by First Seed, if all goes well.’

He nodded, thinking on that a moment. By First Seed he would become a father; a strange thought, but… not an unpleasant one.

 

She gazed up at him as he got lost in his own thoughts, taking the opportunity to lean up and steal a playful kiss from his unsuspecting lips.

He looked down at her, broken from his reverie, and his mouth twitched into an impish grin. He ran a hand down her side, gripping the bare flesh of her thigh where her dress had fallen back, kneading the tight muscles of her leg roughly.

‘You are so...’ he trailed off, as she parted her thighs wider for him, her hips grazing up against his languidly as he lay between her legs; an invitation. He smirked.

Wanton. Shameless. Sinful. Fearless. Merciful. Beautiful. So many things he could call her; so many things he thought about her. But was not ready to say. Not yet.

‘Lascivious,’ he growled into her ear.

She smiled, biting her lip, her arms coming up and latching around his strong neck, her hips rolling in earnest now as she let out a husky moan – half in reaction to the pleasant friction between her clothed pussy and his hard armour, half a show for him; a message in their little language – she was ready, and she would have him if he wanted.

He huffed, caught off-guard by her invitation. But he pushed his hips back against hers, sharp teeth finding the soft, exposed flesh of her neck and biting down – oh, he wanted.

 

She sighed, eyes pressing tightly closed as she tilted her head back, long red curls tangling in the furs beneath her as she stretched, allowing him more access to the pale white skin of her neck.

‘Armour. Off,’ she breathed between his kisses and gentle nips. He growled – a black, rumbling sound that erupted from somewhere inside his chest.

He sat back on his knees above her and began unfastening, and she smiled slyly, enjoying the show as, piece by piece, he shed himself of that ancient, inflexible armour, revealing the powerful, healthy musculature underneath.

He was proud enough as it was; she wasn’t about to start telling him how handsome she found him. But she’d be lying if she said just the sight of him stripping for her wasn’t making her cunt ache and leak with desire.

That chest, broad and strong and thick with well-developed muscle; that ash-coloured skin with those exquisite blood-red lines that she had explored so many times before and that even graced the length of his erection; that dark, greedy look of need that she had come to read so well in his sinister eyes. 

He dropped his armour carelessly to the floor and then knelt there, naked, while the red-haired woman with her shapely legs spread open beneath him eyed him hawkishly.

‘And you?’ he prompted, tugging impatiently at the hem of her dress. ‘Will you remove this, or shall I destroy it?’

It wasn’t the way a thrall was supposed to speak to a master; by neither the laws of Kyn nor the laws of mortals, and a small shudder of masochistic pleasure trembled through him as he thought on how his superiors might react if they ever were to find out. But the way her chest rose and fell then as she took in a deep breath, the way she gazed back at him now with hunger in her eyes, he had come to know that this… insubordination pleased her.

She smirked, grabbing the edges of her dress in either hand, sitting up and pulling it over her head, tossing the bundled-up cloth out onto the floor with his armour.

She flopped back onto the bed beneath him, wearing nothing but an impish grin over her flushed lips, her long, bare legs stretching open as she exposed herself to him, large heavy breasts lulling on either side of her chest.

He traced a finger over her hip bone and smirked.

‘You wore nothing underneath,’ he mused.

‘I knew you were coming over,’ she purred teasingly.

He growled with pleasure; he loved that. Not only was she his but she would anticipate and prepare for his arrival… that thought was too precious to waste.

 

He leant down hungrily, large hands seizing her around the waist greedily as he began to kiss along the milk-white flesh of her stomach. He decided on a whim that he would toy with her with his mouth today, make her mewl and sigh his name as he worked her swollen little nub and drank up the bitter honey of her fluids; a little reward for thinking on him while he was away.

And then his trail of languid, wet kissed reached her lower abdomen and he paused. Her stomach was swollen.

Not much; but she looked… fatter. A little bigger around the waist, but the bulge was taut, not flabby.

He gazed up at her, glowing eyes wide with surprise as they met hers. She smiled, a warm hand coming down to stroke the coarse skin of his cheek tenderly.

‘Told you so,’ she cooed.

He smiled a little, feeling like the reality of it all was finally dawning upon him for the first time. He pressed a kiss into the bump in her stomach; just beneath that layer of skin slept their baby, their own little one, growing inside her.

And flaring up inside him he felt… anger.

Anger, he was used to; it was the impulse of war. But this was, a different kind of anger. He kissed her more, caressing the smooth skin of her stomach with a rough hand as he explored the new feelings this action evoked within him.

Anger, he bristled, _for her._ Anger that someone might harm her. Protectiveness. Possessiveness. Fear.

He withdrew from her then, sitting back up on his knees, and she looked up at him quizzically.

‘You all right?’ she asked. He frowned.

‘You… are weak,’ he said finally. She chuckled.

‘I could still put you down,’ she teased. But he didn’t smile.

‘You are soft. This flesh is thin,’ he went on. ‘You will swell up with my child and others will see your vulnerability.’

And he could lose them both, he finished to himself, flinching from the thought.

‘I...’ he faltered, struggling now to find the right words in her common tongue. ‘You have Sanguine’s Rose, and through it I am bound to your will in this plane. But that is… summoning, trickery. You said yourself that there are ways in which I could free myself; ways I could...’ kill her, he didn’t finish. The idea alone sent shivers up his spine as though he had just been plunged into ice-water.

‘But I would serve you, Ragna, through my own will. I offer myself to you now as your servant. I will stay with you. Watch over you,’ he declared.

She looked up at him now, ominous eyes… soft? She had never seen him like this before. And something about it – about the unexpected, heartfelt way in which he spoke – stirred her.

‘Valki,’ she breathed, smiling warmly up at him and clutching one of his big hands with her own. ‘That’s not necessary. You really don’t have to do anything.’

‘But I want to,’ he answered, before adding a little bashfully. ‘If you would have me.’

She smiled.

‘But won’t Kyn wonder?’ she teased.

‘Yes,’ he answered shortly. She frowned.

‘Won’t you get in trouble?’

‘Yes,’ he admitted finally.

‘Valki,’ she sighed. Was he… protecting her?

A stranger declaration of his feelings there was not, but she took it all the same, loving it for what it was.

 

With a tug on his hand that she still held she pulled him back down toward on top of her, pressing kisses to his face, running her fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his bare skin as it brushed against hers.

It was gentle that night. Her body moving against his slowly, carefully, as they took their time with each other. They looked into each other’s eyes, explored one another tenderly like they had never done before; taking in their differences, their similarities. 

He drove into her gently and deeply and watched all the little reactions twist over her face as she moaned with pleasure. And when she came in his arms she breathed his name into his ear entirely unlike he had ever heard it before; not in the desperate, ardent way that he was used to hearing her, but she whispered it now like a song, over and over again as he moved inside her.

She held him close and pressed kissed into his cheek and lips and he was right behind her, her name on his lips as he spilled himself inside her, that wave of gratification crashing over him as relief surged throughout his entire body.

 

But that was months ago now. And things had certainly… changed a lot between them since.

Now, they lay together in her bed that had become theirs – covered by blankets that she pressed to her face to inhale his scent whenever he was not with her.

He held her close to him, her small, human body pressed hot and naked against his own as he encircled her, and it was not unusual; it felt comfortable. It felt like home.

 

She gave him feelings that were new to him; things he had never been taught about in all the centuries he had served Lord Dagon.

He knew violence, power, control, hatred, anger, lust. He knew tertiary emotions like envy, bitterness, sadism. And of course, he, like all Kyn, knew the most shameful of all emotions: fear.

He was a keen strategist and had planned battles; he was an expert in both hand-to-hand combat and with a blade. He knew all the points to puncture on man, mer and beast alike to leave them bleeding out on the cold soil of Mundus with minimal effort.

And yet, when he felt her slim fingers curl around his, he felt… something like fear tingling all over his skin, but he was not afraid.

When her soft, welcoming lips pressed against his he felt like his chest would burst. When she called out his name while they made love he felt, a kind of possessive anger mingled with pleasure. When he curled up sleepily after sex and her warm arms tried to hold him around his large chest and broad shoulders, her face nuzzling into his back he felt… something he had never felt before.

Like burning fire, like pleasure and joy, like laughter all over his body. Like something he would gladly die for.

Mortals might have called it love, but that was not an emotion meant for his kind; not something Kyn were built to feel.

He felt lust for her, but it was not accompanied by hate. Often the lust came with fondness – he didn’t want to hurt her; he enjoyed it when he pleased her.

When she wasn’t with him he felt… bored. No; sadder than that. He felt… empty. He felt like he needed to see her. He thought of her all the time; he fought to keep these changes to himself so that they would not affect his duties; so that no one else might discover the real reason behind his frequent trips to Tamriel.

 

And as for her, well, Dremora made for strange bedfellows. 

The sex between them was something else – it was intoxicating, maddening. It felt like they could never get enough of one another.

Every time they reunited after being apart everything else was pushed to the side – sometimes quite literally – until they were panting and sweating and spent in each other’s arms, and then the business of conversation and catching up could commence.

That they had been so physically drawn to one another was unexpected, but perhaps something that she had quietly hoped for. That she had begun to grow fond of him – now that was a surprise.

He was proud – sometimes downright arrogant – reckless, disappeared constantly and was gone for long periods at a time, and damn did he know how to push her buttons to annoy her when he wanted to – and he seemed to take a particular kind of pleasure in doing so.

But he was also loyal – more so than she’d, ashamedly, believed a Dremora capable. He was thoughtful and clever, and darkly funny when he wanted to be. And somewhere, deep down inside that strapping, muscular chest of his, he was maybe just a little bit sweet too.

She smirked to herself. If Sanguine had planned this mess somehow, she’d have to remember to slap him and them kiss him the next time they crossed paths.

 

And then she felt it as they lay together in the dark; the warm, smooth flesh of his erection as it rubbed against the bare skin of her back, his body embracing hers, and she chuckled warmly.

‘Valki?’ she purred, rolling her arse back into his hips tormentingly.

‘You can’t sleep,’ be began, smirking. ‘And, mm, I like this,’ he rumbled, stroking his hand lovingly over the huge swell of her stomach. She had a few weeks to go at best. ‘I like that you will be the mother of my child.’

She grinned.

‘Are you propositioning me?’ she teased. He smiled.

‘Would you refuse?’

‘I haven’t refused you yet,’ she laughed. ‘Why should I start tonight?’

 

He propped himself up on an elbow, his other hand snaking down from its place around her fruitful, gravid stomach and sliding into the mass of fiery curls between her thighs.

 

She spread her legs for him, her foot hooking behind the thick muscle of his thigh, letting his fingers glide in between the lips of her pussy. He smiled darkly; she was wet for him already.

 

She groaned headily at the contact; her hormones were a mess. For weeks now she’d been craving sex almost as badly as she had done when she first decided on a reckless whim to summon a Dremora to grant herself some relief. At least now, thankfully, she had someone around at her beck and call who was more than happy to lend her a hand when she was in need.

 

He spread the lips of her vagina apart with deft fingers, stroking and circling over her little silken bundle of nerves at a slow, tormenting pace. Her eyes fluttered closed; she was panting for him now.

His cock strained almost painfully with desire as it brushed the hot skin of her arse, hungry for its own stimulation as she arched and undulated against him, but he could wait.

 

Her arms came up now, one hand pinching one of her tender nipples as the other pawed blindly down his thighs, seeking out the smooth, hard length of his penis. She found it and wrapped her fingers around him, and he groaned, eye-half lidded as he bucked his hips into the feeling, masturbating himself with her hand.

She pumped him with a steady rhythm, alternating the pressure from firm to soft as she stroked, taking particular pleasure in noting how his resolve slipped, his soaking fingers on her clitoris going slack every time she squeezed and pulled his foreskin back over the head of his cock.

The first stream erupted, warm and sticky over her fist, and she moaned with hunger for him; she would have licked and sucked him gladly but for how uncomfortable it had become in almost all positions with her cumbersome new stomach.

Instead, she gathered it up on her fingertips, smoothing the silky liquid over the delicate flesh of his glans and delighting in the sensitive shiver that her touch brought over him before bringing her hand up to her face.

His eyes followed her carefully as her lips parted, soft tongue stretching out and licking the transparent liquid up her pale finger, leaving a long rope of his pre-come trailing between her mouth and her hand.

He growled, quickening the pace with his own fingers around her clit, enjoying the sultry, satin feel of her pussy and the way he could elicit little tremors and shudders through her legs by tweaking her just right. Expertly, he dipped a thick finger into her tight tunnel, and then another, penetrating her with slow, shallow strokes, pulling his fingers apart just slightly to stretch her at the mouth of her entrance.

She threw her head back and cried out, knotted red hair tickling his chest. He felt her muscles writhe and contract around his fingers and his breath grew quick; oh, how he yearned to be inside her now.

He fucked her with his hand a little longer, until the throbbing need in his penis became too much to bear, and then he pulled out, leaving her empty and aching for more as her fluids dripped between them, soaking the blankets below.

He grabbed the base of his cock in his hand and guided it up to the sodden, inviting lips of her pussy, coating his thick length with her fluids as he rubbed himself along the length of her slit.

She rocked her hips for him gently, massaging his penis between her warm cunt and his hand, little moans escaping her lips every time his shaft stroked against her clit.

 

He pushed down, the sensitive head of his cock catching at the opening of her vagina, and she stiffened up, a hand pushing out against his leg to stop him.

‘Wait,’ she panted, her voice hoarse with lust as she fought the urge to just let him grab her and fuck her senseless. ‘Let me get on top.’

 

He smirked, giving her no answer, but he rolled onto his back immediately. She grinned, rolling over herself now and hoisting a leg over his body to straddle his thighs.

She took up his stiff cock in both hands, stroking and working his length skilfully, his shaft still warm and wet with her fluids from their foreplay.

He growled at the feeling, head tilting backwards and brow furrowing tightly as he pumped his hips up, sliding his cock further into her hands with his every thrust.

 

He liked it from this angle; liked it when she took control and played with him; liked looking up at her and watching the pleasure and delight on her face as they made love.

And tonight was no exception. She was like a goddess of fertility the way she sat astride him, freckled face beautiful and flushed with arousal; long, blood-coloured curls falling in waves over her shoulders; large sensitive breasts with pale, erect nipples swaying above him as they swelled with milk to feed his child; thick thighs squeezing and shuddering beneath her as she dragged her engorged little clitoris against his leg.

And her stomach – that inviolable stomach that he’d watched with eager eyes as it grew plump and heavy over many months. Just the thought of her human womb filled with his foreign seed was enough to make him hard. Watching her like this… well, Dibella herself would be envious.

 

Coarse hands came up to caress her heavy stomach as she worked his penis, her hips rolling slowly as she humped his naked thigh. His fingers ghosted over her taut skin tenderly.

‘This,’ he panted with breathless admiration. ‘This is my mark – my proof,’ he confessed. ‘That you are mine, and mine alone.’

She smiled, but the pace of her hips as she ground against his leg slowed.

‘And what happens after the child is born?’

She tried to sound impassive, tried to sound as though she didn’t care what his answer would be; as though the idea of him losing interest in her didn’t bring with it a deep twinge of distress.

After all, when the child was born, he would have fulfilled his fantasy; bred his woman. It seemed entirely likely to her that afterwards she wouldn’t hold nearly the same allure she’d once had in his eyes.

He just shrugged, smirking a little.

‘There are other ways to mark you as my own,’ he replied, raising one of her hands in his and pressing it to his lips reverently.

And then his teeth came out and he bit down on her – _hard_ – sharp teeth suddenly not so harmless as they sliced clean through the skin of her palm underneath her pinky finger.

She yelped, trying to snatch her hand away from the pain instinctively, but he held her arm firmly, looking up at her with impish eyes as the blood began to trickle from her wound. He licked up the crimson fluid hungrily with his tongue, gentle again.

‘And in any case,’ he drawled languidly, mouth half-busy suckling the liquid from her ruptured veins. ‘I can always fill your womb with another child.’

 

Damn that Dremora. She glared down at him darkly with half-lidded eyes, her other hand reaching out to squeeze the stinging flesh of her injured palm, milking the blood from herself as she fed him her own essence.

She cocked a sultry eyebrow; he wanted it rough tonight, did he? Well, two could play at that game.

 

They had spent many nights together since they first met – as many as they could arrange between the two of them – and much as he liked to press her buttons, he wasn’t the only one that had learnt some dirty little secrets about their lover in all that time.

 

She leant down on all-fours, large breasts swaying in his face as she crawled over his body slowly, her hand brushing over his cheek before her fingers tangled into his hair.

She smiled down at him sweetly, gazing into his eyes as she twirled a few long strands around her finger. And then she yanked it sharply.

 

He hissed at the sudden pain that shot through his scalp, but in the same moment she felt his cock spring up and slap against her thigh, and she laughed darkly. 

He could play at all that lordliness and arrogance as much as he pleased, but at the end of the day this is what really got him going; when she was on top and he was helpless beneath her, only too eager to have her hurt him and take her pleasure from him.

 

He scowled up at her bitterly, and if she didn’t know his little tells by now she’d almost think he was angry about what she’d just done. But she saw that glint in his eyes, the way his breathing had quickened – excited – and she knew he wanted this. It was a part of his game to protest at first, and she was fine with it; it only made it sweeter when he finally came undone for her.

 

She grinned innocently and bit her lip, her hands snaking down to his chest as she dragged her fingers over his nipples, and he sighed into the feeling. She smiled, her own raw nipples scraping against his skin as she moved down his body, taking one dark little bud into her mouth as she tweaked the other between thumb and forefinger. He moaned.

‘Ragna,’ he breathed unevenly, his voice pleading as his eyes fluttered shut. But he didn’t know what he wanted. For her to stop – for her to never stop. He loved and hated this part of himself, and loved and hated that she indulged it in him.

‘Shhh,’ she cooed, pinching the nipple between her fingernails for good measure. He breath spiked into a painful hiss, but his body rolled with the pain. She smiled.

‘There you go,’ she soothed approvingly. ‘You keep taking this like a good boy and I might just let you please me.’

He moaned at that, nodding helplessly, and she smiled.

‘Now, are you going to apologise for this?’ she purred, holding up her right hand, still erratically oozing blood as her injury tried to clot. His thick lips twisted into a devilish smirk.

‘You liked it,’ he rumbled darkly. She smiled, and slapped him hard across the face.

‘You’re damn right I did,’ she panted.

He looked back to her, skin reddening quickly from the force of the strike. She knew she didn’t have to hold back with him. And he loved her for it.

‘Again,’ he breathed. She chuckled.

‘Uh-uh,’ she tutted playfully. ‘You’ll take it when I want to give it.’

He nodded again, and she smiled, leaning back and rewarding him with a hard slap to one of his dense, muscular thighs and he writhed beneath her now, bucking his hips a little as he tried to rub his cock against her leg.

She bit her lip, ignoring the burning ache of arousal between her own legs as she watched his face contort, shuddering around that delicate line of pain and pleasure; that was his favourite spot.

‘Good boy,’ she purred.

‘Forgive me,’ he professed quickly, eyes tightly closed. ‘I should never have hurt you, Dragonborn – I should never have bitten you...’

She smirked.

‘Apologising already?’ she teased. ‘Mm, you must really want another, don’t you?’

He nodded hopelessly, anxiously awaiting the pain.

‘My, my,’ she teased sadistically. ‘What would your superiors make of this?’ 

She grabbed his cock with her bleeding hand and rolled his foreskin back and forth gently – just letting him flirt with pleasure, not giving him enough to get off over.

‘You really have been a very shameful boy, haven’t you?’ she went on. ‘Not only fucking a little human like me but impregnating her?’ she smirked, his eyes glued to her pitifully as she ran her left hand over her huge stomach. ‘And now this? You submit to me so willingly? You like it when I use you, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he confessed artlessly. She smiled, rewarding him with another harsh slap to his thigh.

He gasped, his cock erupting with a firm spurt of pre-come that hit her hands. She smirked, coating her fingers with his substance and eyeing him darkly as she slowly licked up all of their mingled blood and pre-ejaculate.

‘They would be so disappointed in you if they saw you like this, wouldn’t they?’ she cooed, her hand returning to toy with his twitching cock. ‘They would punish you, wouldn’t they?’

‘Yes,’ he groaned now through gritted teeth, thrusting his hips up to try to get the most out of her every tormenting stroke. ‘Help me, Ragna,’ he begged so guiltlessly. ‘Please, help me.’

Uh, gods, of course she would, when he said it like that.

‘You’ll always be my good boy, won’t you?’ she smiled lovingly, running her left hand down his thigh lightly, before digging her fingers in as she began to knead his sensitive flesh. He nodded vehemently.

 

She was soaking now; she hadn’t touched herself for a little while but just watching the effect their little game was having on him was arousing enough.

She wanted to sit on his face, to throw her head back and grind into the feeling as he ate her, tongue and lips and teeth teasing and pleasuring her until she came in his mouth. And he’d have loved it too; lapping up her fluids like a starving man, pumping himself hard and fast until he spilled all over his stomach to the thought of her using him like a toy.

But the way they were both panting now – the way he was struggling to hold on just as she tortured him – she knew that she wanted to feel him ram himself inside her, filling and spreading her as she adapted to his invasion, before they both came.

 

Her hand stopped caressing his cock, and she lifted herself then, lining herself up with his penis. Both of their breaths caught as his head brushed against the silky, saturated folds of her cunt.

And then she sank down onto him.

And, uh, gods, it was bliss. She moaned fully, head rolling back and eyes closing, as tangles of red curls fell about her shoulders.

He groaned too, desperately fighting the urge to buck into her, to mindlessly chase that pleasure that he ought to be waiting nicely for her to give him. Like a good boy, he panted in his own mind. Like a good boy for Ragna.

She didn’t miss this; this beautiful creature between her legs that was all but shaking from the strain of keeping himself under control. She smiled, rocking her hips languidly on top of him; feeling as the hot, tight muscles of her pussy opened, thrust by thrust, allowing him penetrate her.

 

She made love to him slowly and shallowly at first, teasing him; not deep enough to satisfy either of them, but enough of a taste to keep them both urgently wanting.

‘Uh, gods,’ she moaned as she rocked lightly on top of him, savouring the sensation that rippled through her from being filled with his cock. ‘You’re so beautiful, Valki,’ she purred. ‘You’re being such a good boy for me.’

‘Please,’ he gasped. ‘Please, Ragna.’

She smirked, lifting her hips higher this time and sinking onto him properly; pulling almost all the way out before sliding back down onto his cock hard. He moaned shamelessly with the pleasure.

‘Please, what?’ she tormented.

‘Dragonborn,’ he panted. ‘Please – oh, fuck,’ he moaned as she impaled himself on him again, a violent shudder of pleasure coursing through his body. ‘Please, more!’

‘More what?’ she went on lazily. He growled.

‘Everything,’ he confessed savagely. ‘Fuck me, Ragna. Ride me, please.’

 

She groaned lustfully, leaning forward and clawing her nails firmly down the sides of his ribs and he gasped, panting and stretching his chest so she could better hurt him. 

She slapped his thighs hard, and his breath came out hard and fast now, eyes pressed tightly closed as he leant into the feeling – all the feelings she was giving him. She bit her lip darkly.

‘You wanna come?’ she drawled.

He nodded desperately, eyelids straining with how tightly he was pressing them closed.

‘Just hold on for me a little longer, beautiful,’ she whispered, her breasts brushing by his face as she leant over him again. ‘You’re doing so well.’

She grabbed hold of his thick wrists, pinning his hands back behind his head with her own, and though he could easily have broken free from his binds he didn’t want to; by the gods, he didn’t want to.

 

His mouth latched onto one of her nipples as it brushed again by his lips, and he sucked it hard.

And then he tasted it, spurting from her and coating his tongue, sweet and warm. Leaking – he noticed that both her nipples were leaking now, little white droplets pooling and trickling down her round breasts, dripping onto his chest below.

His eyes flew open wide, and he started up at her face with surprise. She laughed.

‘It came in a few days ago,’ she explained.

‘It hurts you?’ he asked, the sweetness behind the concern in his deep voice not failing to strike her heart. She smiled, shaking her head.

‘No,’ she answered. ‘It feels good.’

He smirked then, and she knew instantly that she had just given him all the permission he needed to go to work on her breasts.

He took her rigid nipple in his mouth once again and began to suck, savouring her taste as he fed from her, as well as all those little sighs and moans that she made just for him.

He would have liked to paw at her breasts, to squeeze them and milk them in his hands, but she was still holding him down, her own small hands clamped tightly around his wrists, using him to steady herself as she rode his cock, and he liked the feeling of domination more.

‘Oh, by the nine – you feel so good,’ she huffed, sinking down onto him hard now, breasts bouncing and trembling in his face as he drank her milk and toyed with the nipple under his tongue. She started sighing then, calling his name in breathy whispers as he swapped breasts to drink from the other nipple.

He couldn’t think for her; orgasm building fast like a cresting wave in his balls and abdomen and the strong muscles of his stomach and he didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to just lie there, swell after agonising swell of impossible pleasure as his cock slammed heedlessly into her cervix now with every thrust, the walls of her hot, soaking, beautiful pussy clenching and contracting around him.

‘Ragna,’ he panted desperately now. She knew that tone – he was not begging anymore; he was warning her.

‘Just a little longer, beautiful, please,’ she urged. ‘Oh, Valki, I’m so close.’

‘Say it again,’ he begged, torn between twin desires to seize her and pump her full of his hot seed and the desire to hold out for her own orgasm. He snarled. ‘Tell me how I feel when I fuck you.’

‘Oh, Valki, you feel so perfect inside me,’ she gushed. ‘You’re my good little boy – oh, fuck, beautiful, you’re making me come–’

She threw her head back, fucking him urgently and unsteadily as the first wave of her orgasm hit her.

‘Yes, Ragna,’ he growled, holding her hips steady as he felt the walls of her vagina begin to spasm and undulate around his penis, contracting around him tightly as they sought to milk the semen from him.

And then he felt himself, too, slipping from that shaky precipice of carnal pleasure as his balls tightened, the first rope of his come surging into her from his iron-hard, pulsing cock and he gasped.

‘Ragna, oh–’ he breathed urgently, deep, satisfying pleasure flooding over his body like electricity as his cock pumped steam after generous stream of thick, rich semen into her already-fertilised womb. ‘Fuck, Ragna – yes, come for me, my little mortal,’ he moaned.

Her cheeks flushed, eyes pressed tightly closed and head lulling forward toward him as hoarse, aggressive moans escaped from her throat. She rode him and ground against his throbbing, erupting cock. Her heavy breasts shook fluidly with the tremors of satisfaction that wracked her body, thin steams of milk squirting from her hard nipples, trickling onto his body below as her vagina rolled and clenched around him in ecstasy.

They saw each other through their orgasms; him thrusting deep and steady into her until her hips slowed to a stop, eyes fluttering open again, and she rode him until he was spent and utterly empty, every slight stroke of her unbelievably soft cunt against his penis becoming almost painful with overstimulation.

 

They lay that way for a few moments, both of them glistening in sweat and fighting to catch their breath. She flopped down against him now, and he felt his fatigued cock shift inside her as it began to slowly lose its rigidity.

Her hair clung to her flushed, freckled skin all over, and she nestled her head into the side of his neck, not getting off him.

He sighed deeply, not only relaxed but utterly exhausted after all that effort, and he wrapped his arms around the sleepy, pregnant ball curled up on his chest.

Soft lips pressed a gentle kiss into his breast as she nuzzled him, and he held her tighter, kissing the top of her head.

‘Thank you,’ he sighed. She smiled, wriggling a little in his arms.

‘Any time,’ she grinned.

 

Sleepiness settled over her like a warm blanket, and curled up in Valki’s arms, her eyes began to flutter closed. She felt a little sad when they shifted slightly and his near-flaccid penis slid out of her, a warm trail of their mixed fluids flowing out along with it, the last of their sexual connection broken for the evening.

She sighed to herself, slick fluids coating her thighs.

‘Should probably clean up,’ she mused dreamily. She felt him nod.

‘Yes. Probably,’ he agreed serenely.

But neither of them moved a muscle.

 

‘Valki?’ she began again after another peaceful, cosy moment passed between them.

‘Mm?’ he said, eyes closed.

‘Don’t ever leave me, okay?’ she whispered softly. He smiled; his chest so tight and swollen at the same time.

‘Never,’ he promised, pressing another kiss into the top of her hair.

 

She smiled, eyes closing again, warm and safe in each other’s arms, and slowly she drifted to sleep.

 

Her water broke the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

A shrill, piercing cry rang out through the darkness, and the two sleeping bodies stirred underneath warm covers.

Ragna groaned, her eyes fighting to stay closed, but already her arms and legs began to move almost against her will as they shuffled to get up.

But then she felt his lips pressing softly against her cheek, the bed creaking under the heavy weight of his body as he lifted himself from their bed.

‘Sleep,’ he rumbled gently. ‘I’ll see to him.’

She grumbled to protest, but the words failed her. She rolled over in bed and snuggled further into the inviting blankets, determining to herself to get up in just a few more moments.

And then the wailing stilled, his little voice hushed and calm, and her thoughts began to drift away dreamily. 

 

When she opened her eyes again it was late, sunlight streaming into their little room in Whiterun through open wooden shutters – now a bedroom for three.

She shot up in bed immediately – why hadn’t she woken up? Why wasn’t he crying?

Her eyes darted around the room hurriedly, only to see a large familiar figure, slumped over a chair in the far corner of the room.

Valki, she breathed with relief, as she saw him snoring quietly to himself, bare-chested and still dressed only in the slack linen pants he slept in at her house. And nestled into his arms, sleeping angelically against his father’s body, was their infant son.

She smiled to herself, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as her hand came up reflexively over her beating heart. She kicked back the covers and slipped out of bed.

 

She stepped to them quietly, bare feet tiptoeing over old floorboards, and she paused for a moment before disturbing them, taking a moment just to watch, smiling down at them warmly.

Her little family, nestled up and sleeping peacefully in that wicker chair, she almost didn’t want to wake them.

But it was getting late in the morning, and she was trying to get her son into a sleeping routine. More over, her breasts felt like they were burning they were so full now – the little streams of milk that Valki had coaxed out of them while they had made love before she had given birth seemed meagre now in comparison to how much she was making to feed their son.

 

Gently she reached in, her hands sliding between her soft little boy and the warm skin of her partner as she sought a secure grip around her son’s delicate body.

Valki’s eyes blinked open and he tensed up sleepily, tightening his hold on the bundle in his arms protectively as he felt his child slip from him.

‘It’s just me,’ she whispered gently, and he relaxed, loosening his grip and sinking back into the chair as he relinquished his son to her.

Valki let out a strange sound – something between a growl and a grumble as he stretched now, long legs unfolding around her and thick arms rising upwards as he extended his muscles. He rolled his head a little, trying to work out a twinge in his neck as she grinned at him.

‘It didn’t look very comfortable,’ she chuckled, bouncing their son in her arms as he began to wake up and whimper. Valki smirked tiredly.

‘I have slept in worse places,’ he answered. ‘And it pleased him. You know how he is comforted by proximity.’ 

‘He and I both,’ she grinned. ‘I was a little jealous, watching you two. We’ll have to get a bigger chair so I can snuggle up with you next time.’

Valki smiled, yawning as he stood to full height. He extended a hand toward her, brushing over the skin of her forearm affectionately.

‘Well, my beautiful mortal, there is always the bed,’ he smiled, gesturing with a nod over toward the other end of their room. She grinned.

 

She snuggled their little son in her arms as he woke up slowly, nuzzling his face into his mother’s neck and sucking on his fingers idly, baby drool warming her collar and her heart equally.

Valki piled up the pillows by the head of the bed so that Ragna might have something to support her back while she nursed, and when he was finished she climbed in carefully, son in arms, and Valki pulled the blankets up over her legs before laying on the bed beside them both.

She unfastened the buttons that ran down the front of her nightgown and pulled out a full breast, her son recognising it immediately, little hands reaching out for food.

Valki sighed tiredly, closing his eyes as he burrowed his head into Ragna’s thighs by her lap, running a hand over her leg lovingly, and she smiled, feeling his fingers caressing her through the blankets.

 

Breastfeeding had not been easy for her at first. Not because she wasn’t making milk – if anything, she was wondering if her body might be making too much – but because her little one had had trouble properly latching onto her nipple, and whenever he tried to suckle it had been so _painful._

But they had persevered, many times through day and night, and Valki had stayed with her throughout all of it; holding her hand or rubbing her back, waiting with a worried frown across his weathered face as he watched her wince through the pain as she struggled to feed their son.

But things had improved a lot within just a few short weeks, and she smiled as she gazed down at her son now, latching onto her breast with ease, sleepy golden eyes blinking up at her as he settled in for his breakfast.

 

He was a beautiful child – the most perfect little creature she’d ever seen. She remembered with a smile how funny-looking she had found him when they had first met after she had given birth.

When the midwife had first held him up for her to see after almost a day and a night’s hard labour, covered in blood and mucus, he looked more like something she ought to be taking out of the world rather than bringing into it.

But then, once she had cleaned him up, wiping him down with a damp towel and handing him over to Ragna to suckle, she looked down upon him and her heart melted.

Ashen pale skin, a damp tuft of raven-black hair atop his little round head, bloody, bone-like nubs protruding from either side of his skull that she could only presume were his baby horns, and wide golden eyes – a strange combination of the glowing, sinister eyes of his father and the dark, human eyes of his mother.

But in almost all other ways he looked so much like that damned Dremora. And Valki knew it too, the way he gazed upon his little newborn son with puffed-up pride.

‘Will you give him a name?’ he had asked as he held a vigil by her bedside, the two of them still gazing in wordless fascination at the tiny beautiful newborn asleep in her arms.

She glanced up at him with a funny look.

‘I was planning on it,’ she smirked. He nodded, pleased.

‘A name of his own,’ he considered aloud. ‘He is worthy of that. You gave me the gift of a name when I was nameless. I am glad that you will give our son this gift, too.’

‘You don’t want a say in the matter?’ she asked. He smiled.

‘I do not know much about mortal names,’ he confessed. ‘And, obviously, he is without rank. But then,’ he added, a little solemnly. ‘I hope that he never knows that life.’

She smiled at him gently, her hand reaching out to find his, squeezing his thick fingers in her palm.

 

It was easy to forget sometimes how much Valki had endured throughout his strange and endless existence, and it was easy to forget how much he sacrificed to be with them.

But she admired his often-overlooked self-determination greatly; whatever she had thought or believed about Dremora in all the years before she had known him, she thought very highly of them now, even if they weren’t all like him.

 

‘Don’t worry,’ she assured him through an exhausted but elated smile. ‘If anyone tries to take him away to the Deadlands, they’ll have to go through the Dragonborn first.’

He laughed at that, and pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

‘I may not have banished the World-Eater, but I did lead an army during the Oblivion Crisis,’ he pointed out. ‘I am not as powerless as I let you believe.’

She raised an eyebrow.

‘Did you, now?’ she smirked. ‘That’s very cheeky, Valki. I hope your days of invading Tamriel are well and truly behind you.’

He grinned wickedly.

‘Of the plane itself, yes. Although of invading its citizens… well, that is perhaps another story.’

She chuckled.

‘Only this citizen, I should hope. Or I’ll send you back to Oblivion myself.’

He smiled, squeezing her hand; a copy of the affectionate gesture she often did to him.

‘Then I am in no danger,’ he offered softly. ‘For you are the only citizen that holds any appeal to me.’

She smiled warmly at that, letter her eyes close with the bone-deep fatigue she felt all over her body from the extraordinary effort that had been her son’s birth. She sighed contentedly as she felt Valki’s coarse, warm fingers in hers and her heart swelled for him.

On the surface they must have seemed a strange couple, she was sure; but how could she believe that they might be wrong for one another when he always made her feel like this?

 

She fought the overwhelming sensation of drowsiness for another moment, exhausted but so elated with her new baby that she didn’t want to sleep.

She glanced down at the tiny cherub in her arms, bundled up in a soft fleece blanket, watching as he scrunched up his little face and yawned, miniature mouth opening wide to reveal rows of sharp, pointed white nubs protruding from pink gums.

Well, fancy that, she smiled to herself. He had teeth.

 

‘Úlfarr,’ she breathed softly, gazing down at the newborn baby in her arms with adoration.

‘Mm?’ Valki asked quietly, feeling as though he might nod off himself as he leant over her bed, his head propped up by an arm.

‘It was my father’s name, before he died,’ she explained. ‘Wolf of Battle – fitting for a son of ours, don’t you think?’

‘Úlfarr,’ he tried it on with a smile. It sounded darker with his accent, rolling on his tongue, but she liked it all the more. ‘It is strong. A Nordic name for our half-Nord.’

‘A warrior’s name for our warrior,’ she smiled sleepily.

‘Úlfarr,’ he said again, a little more confident this time. He reached across and ran a finger over the baby’s temple and cheek delicately, and he beamed at her.

‘He is even softer than you,’ Valki chuckled. She smirked.

‘Watch yourself now, or you’ll get thrown out,’ she answered dryly.

He smiled, amused, but decided against pushing her any more that evening. 

 

True to his word, Valki stayed by her side – not only through the birth itself but into the days and nights beyond, as much as he was able, and Ragna was quietly thankful to him for that.

Now, a little more than a month on, their once-tiny son was already so much bigger. Large eyes wide and alert as he peered up at his mother and blinked around the room, Úlfarr was rapidly growing taller as well as heavier and he showed no signs of slowing down. And he was vocalising regularly now, his voice small and bright as he grinned and gurgled and squealed at his parents.

But this morning he was focused, all but silent as he concentrated on the most important need his young, fledgling body had – eating. 

 

‘Oh – he’s hungry this morning!’ Ragna chuckled, the familiar little lips of her baby tugging greedily on her nipple as he drank thirstily.

‘So he should be,’ Valki smiled, nuzzling into her leg. ‘He grows strong.’

She smirked down at Valki, running her spare hand over his long black hair lovingly as he lay by her side, and he made a low, purring sound as he leant into her touch. She grinned.

‘A fine family we make, the three of us,’ she teased fondly. He smiled up at her.

‘Though I may be the only Kyn since we came into existence to have given leave of my senses and forsaken all honour,’ he smirked. ‘I do not regret a moment of it. I… I love you so, Ragna.’

 

She smiled fondly, heart ablaze and nerves erupting in her stomach at his simple admission. He had said as much to her before – they were well beyond that stage with one another now – but expressing his feelings like that was not something that had come naturally for him, every time the words fell from his lips he seemed nervous anew. And every time she watched him struggle so sweetly to make her understand how he felt, it struck her heart.

She smiled widely at him, scratching her nails through his hair playfully.

‘I love you too, Valki,’ she grinned.

And then all of a sudden, little Úlfarr squealed loudly, milk still in his mouth as he laughed delightedly, as if one of them had told a great joke.

‘Oh? You think it’s funny, do you?’ Ragna grinned at her son. He kicked his feet happily and giggled.

Valki chuckled, reaching over and pinching their baby’s knee in between large fingers, and their little one erupted in a fit of ticklish laughter. 

 

They both had things to do, that day and beyond, but they lingered that morning, the three of them spending as long in bed together as they were able; talking, laughing, playing and being with one another.

But when Úlfarr fell into a serene slumber, full after another feed and nestled snugly in his father’s arms, Valki glanced up at Ragna and smiled and she saw something – a kind of contented peacefulness; a kind of unbound fulfilment – that she had never seen in him before.

And she smiled back at him with love, her heart swelling with pride and affection as she gazed upon the two people she adored most in the world, and she knew then that fooling around with that Dremora had been the best damned mistake she’d ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. If anyone is curious to see some 'concept art' (using that term pretty loosely) of Valki, I posted some screenshots to my Tumblr that you're welcome to check out! <3
> 
> https://sigridstorrada.tumblr.com/post/144292491221/valki-demon-seed


End file.
